Bioterror Begins at Home

Saturday was a good day. We took care of errands together. It makes it more fun to do them together. We discovered that Tammy's tiny sporty car can hold a storm door, a sliding screen door, assorted hardware and the two of us. We were house proud and full of plans and good humor. I sorted and stored the dried herbs. I

Sunday was a great day. I did the shopping and settled in to use fresh vegetables from our farm share for something nice to eat. T got down to work on refinishing the front threshold. I made a summer and zucchini squash and polenta dish, sprinkled with cheeses. As soon as it cooled, we had some for a snack. I impressed even myself! We left it cooling on the counter while we worked hard on exterior house projects. And left it. And left it. And left it. Until we sliced up more pieces for our lateish dinner. Five hours on the counter in the heat and humidity.

Monday was a terrible day. Around midnight I woke up feeling a rumbling and discomfort in my guts. My mouth had that sharp, salivating and distended feeling that usually precedes throwing-up. I denied it. We hadn't eaten any strange half-cooked meats at any greasy spoon diners. We hadn't really had any alcohol to drink. I'll be right in a moment, just get some water, have a good belch or whatever. I fought it. There was a time when I might have cut my losses immediately, listened to my body shouting its need to purge before any more bacteria took hold, and gone to the bathroom to induce. This time I didn't listen. I don't know why. Perhaps because I was tired and stubborn (the two go hand-in-hand with me, it seems). Perhaps because I do not look on forced vomiting with any sort of pride. It's nasty. But I fought until the wee hours. By then, T had been up repeatedly, embracing her gastro-intestinal situation, or the porcelain bowl - as you wish. We were both in a bad way, trembling, cold, sweating, miserable, unable to escape the surges of cramping and convulsion and the stench. Like a sick dog, I went off to be alone on the couch.

Monday continued to be a terrible day. More later . . .